


Five days

by MadPhantom21



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Revolution, Bad Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Revolutionary War, Slow Burn, Smut, not really slow tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadPhantom21/pseuds/MadPhantom21
Summary: Alfred Jones is fighting for the freedom of the land he calls home, the 13 Colonies, when he is shot and rescued, for a mistake, by the enemy part. At the British infirmary he meets a young Londoner medicine student who he'll fall in love with. But stories like this aren't meant to have a good ending...
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Day one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first long I'm trying to write and translate into English. It's not my native tongue, so forgive me for mistakes!

He did not remember how long it had been, how long he’d been lying on the muddy dirt of the battlefield, among fallen companions on who hungry insects perched. The bayonet lay a few feet away, half covered by the mud that increased with every minute the rain hit. Alfred could not distinguish the voices approaching, slowly inspecting the bodies one by one for survivors. He felt pain in his right leg and a great feeling of lightheadedness. Had they shot him? Likely. But then why was he there, half unconscious in the field among the red jackets, and why was he unable to respond to the hands that slowly lifted him and loaded him onto a cart? He opened his eyes as someone wrapped him in a blanket, and saw two emerald green eyes staring at him for half a second before turning to other injuried survivors. Alfred thought he saw an angel, just for a second. Then, he passed out.

-

When he opened his eyes, the room was dark. Alfred brought a hand to his forehead, touching rough bandages that encircled his head and tried to get up. He looked around, seeing the shape of other beds in the room beyond the cloth booth, and from this he deduced that he was in the infirmary of the camp. He stretched out again and was silent for a few seconds, feeling his right leg throbbing but it didn't hurt so much, it was bearable. He sighed.

How long had it been? He didn't remember what had happened in battle. Who had won? Where were John and Tony, his loyal companions? He hoped they were okay, maybe they were sleeping with all the other soldiers in the common room.

He looked around again, looking for a doctor or someone he could ask for information. He could hear the moans of a wounded soldier from across the room, who was trying to move in the bed but was prevented by pain or perhaps some bandage. The doctors should have known the outcome of the battle, right? And maybe even what happened to him. But the room was empty and almost completely dark, only a few candles protected the infirmary from total darkness.

At one point someone entered, a figure moved delicately and approached the aching soldier, then took a bottle from the nearby table and poured some into a spoon and brought it to the patient's mouth, then closed the bottle and lit some candle around. Maybe it was a request from that soldier, because after doing so he walked towards the exit, but Alfred had to stop him first.

"Hey" He called him, and got nothing in response. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" He remarked louder, not interested in not disturbing the other soldiers in the room.

The figure advanced towards Alfred at a brisk pace. As soon as he was close enough, he whispered: "I highly advise you to keep your mouth shut if you want to stay alive."

Alfred initially didn’t understand, and stared at the other person for a few seconds, watching him light a couple of candles on the table and even closer to the wall, to shed some light. As soon as the candles were lit, Alfred was finally able to see the face of this person, immediately noticing two bright green eyes that for some reason, seemed familiar to him. It was a boy, perhaps a little older than him, with blond hair and delicate features, even if a little tense. He thought he was beautiful, from the bottom of his heart.

"And who would you be, the new nurse?" He joked, chuckling, but the glare he received in response was enough to make Alfred's smile fade. Then, as the boy moved to light the other candles, the room was bright enough for Alfred to recognize that this was not the camp. Or rather, it wasn't his camp. He did not remember that arrangement of beds, that white cloth that served as a ceiling, but above all he did _not_ remember the flag of the British Empire hanging from a beam.

"What the hell ..." He cursed in a low voice, trying to sit up, but the boy stopped him immediately.

"Don’t." He said monotonously, looking at him with those emerald eyes. "The wound on the chest is still open, if you move too much it could get worse."

Alfred wasn't very interested in his injuries now, he couldn't believe he was ... in the English infirmary. This boy, who only a minute ago had thought to be gorgeous, was an enemy. And as an enemy, this explains the look he reserved for him, as if he were the worst of traitors.

He remained silent while the boy raised the bottle on the bedside table and held its contents against the light. He watched him, his gaze focused with his thick, slightly arched eyebrows, his jaw sharpened just right; he wore a white shirt with a wrinkled collar, but still clean. An English man.

"Why am I here?" He asked, believing he was taken as a prisoner at this point, even though he should have found himself chained, if so.

"I said keep your mouth shut." The other replied. Here it was, that strong English accent as confirmation. “If they find you they will shoot you, and I risk losing my job. So shut up and do both of us a favor, rebel. "

Alfred continued to stare at him, but this time his mouth curved into a smile. How absurd, an English nurse knew he was a rebel and was allowing him to be healed in the enemy camp. For what? Getting his strength back so he could shoot them again?

"What ... what happened to me?" Alfred asked, this time in a lower tone of voice. He wanted to ask for a better explanation as to why he was there, but it was clear that this was not the right time.

"You had a bullet in your leg that I took out just in time, a few more hours and I should have amputated it."

"Ah, you're a doctor ..." Alfred touched his forehead. "And what about here?"

"Not yet. I'm still studying." The young man sighed and folded his arms. “You just fell, I suppose. Then, a bullet smeared you in the side, but that's nothing serious. You'll be fine in a few days. "

Alfred closed his eyes, feeling them suddenly burn. That's why he couldn't remember anything, he had lost so much blood that he passed out.

“You have to rest now. Tomorrow you can eat and if you want you can ask me for something else." The young doctor's voice was softer now, as if he couldn't seem contemptuous of his patients for long, even if in this case they were American rebels.

However, even if Alfred had not yet understood why he was in the enemy camp, he was grateful to this Englishman who had saved his leg, and also his life. Maybe none of his people would help him, or maybe they just forgot about him.

And besides saving him, the doctor was beautiful. With that ridiculous London accent and severe expression, and those beautiful eyes that could not be compared even among the most precious gems. It wasn't the first time that Alfred found himself appreciating a man's physical qualities, he knew he was wrong and that he could be arrested for it, so he did it in silence, even when he found someone who, on the other hand, appreciated him .

"Can I ask you one last thing, now?" Alfred asked before the doctor could leave the room. "What's your name?"

Surely the other did not expect that answer, because he looked at Alfred in silence as if he was wondering if he should answer or not.

"Arthur." He said simply, and then left.


	2. Day two

_Arthur_.

He had repeated it in his mind several times, as he had heard him say it, moving his lips slightly, and smiling. Alfred had barely slept a wink that night, mainly because he didn't feel comfortable in the English camp. He could have been caught, if would be asked for any kind of information he would not have been able to answer, they would have accused him of being a spy, and probably he’d be shot. But at the same time, he was happy to be alive, thanks to Arthur.

Arthur… that name sounded so sweet, despite its owner having done nothing but glare at him as he ordered him to shut up, and only for his own good. An owner whose eyes couldn't get out of Alfred's mind. The American chided himself silently, how could he already think of someone after exchanging just a few words? Plus, a young medical student was probably already married, or possibly engaged, Alfred shouldn't even have let his mind wander too much.

He fell asleep with difficulty, and when he woke up the sun was already up in the sky. He didn't know what time it was, but as soon as he opened his eyes he saw the soldier who had been complaining all night standing on a crutch. A doctor was helping him take a few steps around the room before returning to bed again. He passed a couple of meters from Alfred's bed and watched him for a few seconds, then kept walking.

Alfred was silent, he was hungry but preferred to wait for the food to be brought to him rather than asking for it, and he hoped a little that Arthur would be bringing it. When a man in a white apron entered the room pushing a cart containing bowls of stew and placed one on his bedside table, Alfred sighed and tried to sit up to eat the stew. He was really hungry, after losing blood and even his senses for a while.

He took the terracotta bowl in his hands, it was warm and therefore gave a good feeling, but the smell was not exactly inviting. It was soup, simple soup, but perhaps something had gone bad or had been burned during preparation, because even the taste was not ideal. Not that his camp’s food was much better. Alfred took the spoon and ate all the soup, there would be no more food until the evening, so he couldn't afford to waste a drop.

After eating Alfred sat, trying not to put too much pressure on his injured leg. He watched the doctor on duty talk to some of the wounded and then help them get to the common room, their injuries weren't serious enough to stay in the infirmary. There weren't many left in that room, perhaps a dozen soldiers, scattered around the room in cots. Maybe there was another room, or maybe the British casualties in that battle weren't all that huge ... the American infirmary was much fuller, or at least the last time Alfred had been there.

Alfred turned to look out of a crack in the tent, he could see the leaden sky of rain but also the green grass like ... like Arthur's eyes. He wondered what he was doing. Maybe he was still asleep, after taking care of the injured during the night.

"Good morning." A voice behind Alfred said simply, which led the American to turn his head around and finally see Arthur standing next to his bed. As if caught red-handed, he blushed slightly but did everything he could to make sure it disappear as soon as possible, and Arthur didn't seem to notice.

"Uh ... hi." Alfred returned the greeting, trying not to look American. How did you not look American? "There is a ... uh ... what a miserable weather today, right?"

Arthur arched an eyebrow but couldn't hold back a smile, the attempt had probably failed in its original intent, but oh god, that smile. Brief, but gorgeous. Alfred managed to capture it in his mind before it disappeared forever.

"You tried." He said, sighing, then showed Alfred the roll of bandages he was holding. He was there to change his bandages. "How do you feel today?"

"How ... how do you want me to feel being here?" He replied, only out of pride, as Arthur's hands pulled up his soft pants so he could remove the used bandages. Alfred was surprised by the delicacy of that boy, being touched so gently, even if for purely medical purposes, made him shiver. Alfred was silent, his eyes dancing around Arthur's sweet face, his blonde hair looking so soft.

"Thank God it didn't get infected," Arthur said, pouring some disinfectant on a clean cloth and wiped it gently over the wound, cleaning it before replacing the old bandages with new ones. "Hopefully, tomorrow you might be able to get up." Arthur seemed about to add more, maybe he wanted to call Alfred by name but he realized he didn't know.

"Alfred." The other said, smiling slightly.

"Huh?"

“My name is Alfred. Looks like I'll be spending a few days here, so I guess you wanted to know."

"What makes you think I care about your name, rebel?" Arthur raised his eyebrows again, placing the roll of bandages in a drawer.

"You tell me a lot to shut up but you've already called me that way twice ..."

"It is who you are. A rebel. "

"You are too." Alfred smiled, for some reason he felt he could talk to Arthur like that.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You’re not supposed to be helping me" Alfred shrugged, he was just saying the truth. But Arthur didn’reply to that, he just sighed.

"Whatever." Arthur leaned against a beam, snorting with a slight smile “But you're also crazy. I mean, throwing yourself into enemies like that, it takes courage. I am not surprised that they mistook you for one of us. "

"How is it possible?" Alfred asked. "My jacket, my uniform ..."

"You didn't have it. Don't ask me why, I just found you. "

Alfred looked down, feeling confused. What had become of the uniform if he no longer wore it? What happened to the blue jacket?

"What about the battle?" He then asked, not wanting Arthur to leave. He knew the doctor had work to do, but although he despised the English so much, he liked talking to Arthur. He wanted to know more about him, to know what he liked to do outside of work, what drove him to become a doctor, if he liked thick slices of bread with olive oil on top.

"You’ve lost, definitely." Arthur said it with a proud smile, as if silently adding 'as it should be'.

Alfred would certainly not have started discussing politics there and now, but he wondered why Arthur had saved him, even though he knew from the start which side he was on. It was clear that the doctor was the only one in that rescue team who knew he was a rebel.

“Now take this. The taste is awful but it will help you get your strength back. ”Arthur looked at Alfred with a spoonful of oily syrup in his hand. Alfred blinked, he hadn't even noticed that Arthur had taken the spoon and filled it, he was so deep in his thoughts.

"Can't taste worse than the stew, right?" Alfred asked with a small smile as he took the spoon from Arthur's hand. In order to take the wooden object he had unwittingly stroked his hand lightly, but that contact was enough to make Alfred shiver. Arthur's skin was so smooth and soft, he wanted to touch it more.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear." Arthur rolled his eyes and snorted, but couldn't help but smile back. He quickly composed himself, however, and as soon as Alfred had taken the syrup and contracted his face in a grimace of disgust, he advised him to rest and went to check on another soldier.


	3. Day three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes Alfred on a small walk outside the infirmary, and they know each other a little bit better.

On the third day that the American rebel spent in the infirmary of the English camp, Arthur was already beginning to get distracted a little too much from his work. He did what he had always done, which was to check that the wounded were better and change the bandages, since it had been a few days since the last battle which, among other things, had returned relatively few losses.

However, since the bed at the back of the room was occupied by that smiling blonde who never took his eyes off him every time he was in that room, he had to fight against himself to continue his work and not return every one of those looks that made him blush. Arthur had never felt like this before, no one had ever looked at him that way, with blue and crystalline eyes that remembered the ocean, and that simple and pure smile, as if they were not in a war camp but in a dream place where a boy could smile at another like anyone else would smile at a beautiful girl. Arthur was sure it was his imagination.

Alfred probably felt alone and couldn't wait to talk to the doctor just to exchange a few words with someone, since he himself hadn't authorized him to even talk to the other injured in the room, or they would have found out immediately.

Despite the prohibition, that day Arthur had surprised Alfred talking to the wounded man from the nearest bed of the latter's wife, who showed him the pendant she gave him as a lucky charm.

“Her name is Alice, and she is pregnant. I hope to be home soon enough to see my son grow up. " The man said, kissing the pendant.

"We all want the war to end soon, man." Alfred answered, sitting on the bed with his arms folded. "Even though I don't have a woman waiting for me at home."

“It might not be bad, at least you can shoot those rebels and die with no regrets. Where were you before? I fought on Long Island, under General Leslie." This made Alfred's smile waver just a little, he did his best to hide it. He didn't know what to say, so he nodded as if he had a vague idea who this General Leslie was. Arthur, who was a few beds away, noticed it just in time, and left the room, looking for a wheelchair: as soon as he found it, he pushed it to the bed of that noisy American, who seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

"You seem in the fullest of energy today, private Smith." He turned to Alfred, using the first last name that came to mind. “How about taking a walk? It would do you good to get some air."

Alfred's face lit up at the thought of being able to go outside, and with Arthur's help he got out of bed and sat in the wheelchair, probably couldn't believe that Arthur had been able to save him again. He was silent until Arthur pushed him out of the room, and then they left the tent. Arthur pushed the wheelchair on the grass for a while, until they were at the back of the camp, where no one would disturb them.

"I wonder why I keep letting you stay here when it's clear you don't care about your life." Arthur said as soon as he stopped, and stood with folded arms.

Alfred looked at him with a smile “Come on! I feel so lonely if I can't talk to anyone… I like taliking, and besides, my name is Jones, not Smith. Alfred Franklin Jones. "

"Talk to me then, Alfred Franklin Jones." Arthur smiled slightly at the proud way Alfred pronounced his name. "Here you can ... be yourself." Arthur said, theatrically spreading his arms.

"Oh, no, something is missing" Alfred held firmly on the armrests of the chair as he let himself slide on the grass, chuckling. He pushed his chair over and touched the ground with his palm, inviting Arthur to sit there with him. Although hesitant at first, the Englishman accepted and sat on the grass crossing his legs.

"Are you happy now?" Arthur asked, turning to look at the bucolic landscape in front of them. Alfred lay down on the grass and put his arms under his head, and closed his eyes. He seemed to like to feel the sun light up his face, and to hear the wind mingle with the birdsong. Arthur had never paid much attention to it, he was used to the chaos of the city, and since he was there he spent his days helping the wounded and then sleeping, he didn't have much time to enjoy the view.

“Tell me, Arthur. What brought you here? " Alfred opened one eye and looked at him, the wind ruffling his golden hair like wheat.

“Helping my country, of course. The same thing that brought you here, I guess."

"No, you don't understand." Alfred sat up, smiling. “I mean, why did you choose to go to war? You're a student, not even a real doctor yet, so why are you here? Did you really choose? "

Arthur opened his mouth slightly as if to answer but stopped, not feeling safe. He couldn't tell the truth, that wasn't supposed to be revealed.

"Yes and no. I wanted to leave London, and joining the army as a doctor seemed like the best choice. They needed doctors and they also accepted students. I could go far and at the same time be useful, but without having to fight, because I'm weak. "

_'Come on, Arthur, why don't you tell him? Tell him why your brothers hate you, tell him that disappearing was the only choice you had.'_

"But you haven't completed your studies this way." Alfred raised an eyebrow, receiving a shrug in response. The American was curious, but he didn't want to annoy Arthur by asking for more.

"I guess living in the city makes you want to escape," Alfred chuckled. “I live on a ranch near Boston, but I was in town with my dad on the day of the Tea Party. I was fifteen, it was the coolest thing I've ever seen! "

Arthur didn't seem amused in the same way, and not seeing a smile on Arthur's face made Alfred's too go out. He was silent, it was clear that he was thinking about something, and began to pull blades of grass, maybe he felt nervous now.

"You know ... I actually ran away too, roughly. But in my case because my father found me a girlfriend and I didn't want to get married, so I took the opportunity and left. "

“Why don't you want to get married? How old are you, eighteen? You're young, it's easier for you. " Arthur looked down at the small amount of loose blades of grass that had gathered around Alfred's feet. He felt like a hypocrite, he didn't want to get married either, but he would. Maybe once the war was over he would move to York or somewhere else, where no one knew who he was, where he never had to look at his brothers' faces. He would marry and have children, he would work as a doctor and maintain the perfect appearance that had always distinguished his family.

"I'm nineteen, actually. And that's because ... I don't think I want that girl. "

"You could always choose another one."

"I don't think I want any girl."

Arthur immediately turned to look at Alfred, widening his eyes in surprise. Did Alfred mean what Arthur had understood? From the look in Alfred's eyes, the answer was probably yes.

“Why are you telling me this? To me? Do you know that I could have you arrested? "

"I needed to tell someone, and I feel like I can trust you, Arthur." Alfred had bright eyes, he looked so vulnerable now. But Arthur's eyes were also bright. Alfred was… he was like him.

“You don't… you don't even know me!”

At that point Alfred's hand moved slowly over Arthur's, making Arthur blush. He was warm and slightly calloused, as if he was used to working in the countryside, but he was extremely pleasant and was worth a thousand words. They remained like that for a couple of minutes, in silence, hand in hand. Arthur no longer felt alone. He felt understood, as if without even speaking Alfred could understand everything that was inside him, even more deeply, and hadn't happened to him with anyone else in life.

"How did you understand?" Arthur asked in a low voice, frightened that it was so obvious.

Alfred smiled sweetly. "From the way you looked at me."

"It was you who looked at me, rebel!" Arthur pouted as he blushed, but he still let Alfred hold his hand.

"And you blushed and looked away, until you couldn't take it anymore and then you finally looked at me."

"You’re crazy, Alfred ..."

"Maybe, a little bit." He chuckled and looked Arthur in the eye. “But I like looking at beautiful things. And you, Arthur, you're the most. "

A darker blush appeared on Arthur’s cheeks and around his nose, under the small light freckles. No one had ever told him that he was beautiful, not even that Frenchman because of whom he was there now.

Arthur looked at Alfred’s ocean eyes, that now showed the brightest glimpse they ever showed, and realized that he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss that obnoxious American who had only been there for few days but, oh god, he was the person Arthur related the most despite being he last he would expect to see for that role.

"We have to go now." Arthur stood up, immediately feeling a cold breeze as his hand was no longer enclosed by Alfred's. He couldn't stay there with him for too long, it would be dangerous.

Alfred seemed a little disappointed, perhaps he expected something more, but Arthur was willing to find another occasion to stay with Alfred, before he would leave, and that sadly would happen soon.

After helping the American to sit in the wheelchair, he pushed him to the infirmary and helped him get into bed. He changed his bandages and saw that his wounds were healing well, perhaps it would have been better for Alfred to leave and return to his camp. It saddened him, but it had to happen.

"Tomorrow you have to go," he said softly. Every minute Alfred spent there was a growing risk. "Maybe it's better at night, it's safer ..."

Before he could go, Alfred grabbed his hand and looked at him. "Tell me we can meet again, just you and me, before I go."

Arthur nodded and squeezed his hand, wishing he could kiss it now. “Yes, Alfred. I'll find a way, I promise."


	4. Day four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long smut chapter ahead, hope you don't mind ;)

"Where are you taking me?" Alfred laughed as he followed Arthur out of the infirmary at sunset. The doctor's shift had just ended, and Arthur was determined to fulfill his promise, which is to spend some time with Alfred in a safe place, where they could talk freely without being heard.

Arthur knew exactly which place would be right for them: the infirmary closet, where they kept the supplies of bandages, disinfectant and even some weapons actually, in case of a sudden attack. Nobody would go there at night, plus only doctors had the key to the lock.

"You'll see. Nothing breathtaking though.”Arthur chuckled and squeezed Alfred's hand passing him the lamp as he pulled out the key and unlocked the brass lock. He pushed the wooden door and went inside, closing it behind him with a sigh of relief.

"Where are we?" The room was dark, Alfred didn't know what kind of place it was, nor could he see the shelves full of rolls of bandages and bags full of clean clothes. Arthur hurried to access a couple of oil lamps hanging from a ceiling beam, and smiled at Alfred. "This is the secret room." He said initially, then giggled. "It's only where we keep stock of bandages and things like that."

Alfred looked around and took a few steps inside the small wooden room. It was nothing more than a closet, but on the other hand they did not need who knows which room to chat safely.

"Are you sure no one will overhear?"

“Who should? They will all go to sleep shortly, it's sunset. " Arthur replied, pulling down a few sacks of clothes where they could sit.

"Do you come here often?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not more often than it takes." He decided to omit the fact that he had used that room a couple of months ago to hide while sucking the member of a lieutenant who had later gone on leave for his family.

The American sat on a sack and crossed his legs, inviting Arthur to sit next to him. "I guess I'll have to leave in a while, as soon as it's completely dark outside."

"Do you know the way to your camp?" Arthur asked, sitting on the nearby sack. He didn't think it was necessary to ask Alfred not to reveal exactly where the English camp was… he trusted him.

"More or less… they said yours is south, so I think I need to go north."

"You are smarter than I thought." Arthur chuckled and got up to look for something in the shelves.

"What are you doing?" Alfred turned to look at the handsome doctor.

"I think it'd good for me to check your wounds one last time, before you go." Arthur got some cotton and a bottle of disinfectant. It was the best thing to do to prevent the wound from becoming infected on the way, if it ever reopened.

"Oh alright." Alfred unfastened the boots that Arthur had kindly provided him and lifted the trousers, leaving the leg still bandaged uncovered.

Arthur took one of the lamps and placed it nearby, then knelt down and began to remove the bandages gently, silently.

"Arthur ... why did you save me?" Alfred asked in a low voice, watching Arthur do his job carefully and scrupulously. "You immediately understood that I was a rebel, why didn't you leave me there to die?"

“Because I don't like to leave someone alone, be it a companion, or an enemy. When I become a true doctor, I will have to take an oath, in which I will promise to help people no matter who they are, without distinction. And when I do, I want to have a clear conscience. " Arthur explained, he felt he could speak freely with Alfred. In fact, he wanted to. He desperately needed to let off steam, to let everything out and get rid of the boulder that had been tormenting him for years.

"I was left alone in times of need, so I want to do everything possible so that no one feels abandoned by me." Arthur wrapped Alfred's leg with clean bandages before lowering his pants back and getting closer to him, now it was the turn of the wound on his chest. He was silent, while Alfred unbuttoned the slightly tight shirt that actually belonged to him.

"One of my brothers surprised me while ... while I was lying with a man." Arthur said, concentrating on the dressing. Alfred's skin was so warm, and touching it was giving him tingles. "He told the others, and he also beat me." He was silent for a few seconds, feeling full of shame as he remembered the insults that were shouted at him that day. "I tarnished the name of the Kirkland family, so joining the army was the only thing I could do, they would never speak to me again and I would have to leave home anyway."

"I'm sorry ..." Alfred murmured, blushing at the closeness between himself and Arthur. He could hear the sound of his breathing in the silence of the closet. “I never had the courage to do it. I felt like I would sin and disappoint my family even just ... thinking about touching a man and feeling my body react like it shouldn't. "

"You know what, Arthur," Alfred continued, causing Arthur to look up so he could meet those magnificent emeralds set in his porcelain face. “It’s not true that you are weak. You're strong and brave, more than me, who don't even have the courage to— ”He stopped, realizing he was about to say something he might regret.

"To?" Arthur left the wound, now almost completely healed, but kept his hand on Alfred's side, feeling Alfred's warmth radiate throughout his body, and the American's cheeks turned a deeper red. "Not to think for once and do what your heart desires?"

Alfred nodded slightly, getting lost in his eyes as Arthur moved his hand towards his chest, Alfred felt the touch burn so intense it was for him. Arthur moved closer and continued to stroke him, smiling while the other shivered gently. He smiled, and approached his face slowly, without breaking eye contact until he was too close, and then his gaze moved to Alfred's slightly parted lips, before closing his eyes and giving him a kiss.

Alfred froze at first, feeling a thousand tingles through his body when Arthur's lips touched his, but then he kissed him back and raised a hand to caress his cheek. The only thing he could think of was the softness of those thin lips, like rose petals with which he danced softly, but after a few minutes Arthur pulled back. Alfred was about to ask him if something was wrong before the other spoke.

"Touch me, Alfred." He simply said, his name came out as pure poetry from those lips, and he could not help but unbutton Arthur's shirt with his free hand, while the Englishman slid Alfred's along the sleeves, thus leaving him shirtless.

"You are so beautiful ..." he whispered, shuddering as he stroked his white chest. He had never done it before, he had never kissed and touched a man, it was his deepest desire. But now he could do it, Arthur was there for him and they had all the time in the world, at least until dawn.

They kissed again, and again, exchanging deeper kisses before Arthur straddled him and moved from his lips to kiss his chin, and then his neck, slowly descending more and more towards one of the nipples. He played with his tongue on that little button of meat, feeling Alfred quiver in excitement and that made him smile. Meanwhile Arthur's hands tried to unbutton his pants and pull them down, but Alfred suddenly froze and for a moment feared he had done something that bothered him.

"Don't ... don't you want to?" He asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Yes of course." The American nodded with conviction. "It's just that ... I've never done it before, and I'm afraid I'm not good enough."

Arthur smiled and kissed Alfred softly. He loved the fact that Alfred never wanted to let him go with every kiss they exchanged. “Don't worry, I'll guide you. You just have to relax. "

Arthur finally pulled down Alfred's pants and underwear, letting out a sigh of satisfaction when he saw the erect, throbbing member desperately begging for attention. He closed his hand around it and stroked it slowly but intensely, enjoying Alfred's moans as he gently rubbed the tip with his thumb.

"Oh ... _Oh my God, Arthur_ ..."

"See what you missed?" He whispered, smiling, then let him go so he could get rid of his pants, which ended up on the ground next to Alfred's. Arthur sat astride him again, but this time he took Alfred's hand and began licking two fingers intensely before guiding his hand behind him.

Alfred took a minute to understand what Arthur wanted him to do, but as soon as he slipped his wet fingers inside his beloved's body, Arthur let out a groan and bent down to kiss Alfred, whose fingers gently explored his body.

"You're so tight, Arthur ..." Alfred spread his fingers just a bit before going out and back in again, rubbing them on the soft walls.

Although it was the first time Alfred had done something like this, Arthur thought he was great, and the way his fingers pressed into him made him want to have Alfred inside as soon as possible.

"I'm ready." He said, and as soon as Alfred had his fingers removed, Arthur rose slightly and then sat on his member, letting it slide naturally in, as if Arthur's body was where it was meant to stay.

Arthur arched his back and waited a few seconds before starting to move. Alfred had squeezed his hips while with his hands he caressed Arthur's waist, holding him on himself, while looking at him like a celestial vision. Green eyes that looked down at him in plesure, and rose pink lips letting out moans that were music for Alfred's ears.

"Doesn’t it hurt?" He asked a bit unsure, hurting Arthur was the last thing he wanted.

"No, you're so gentle, darling." Arthur kept moving his hips, making Alfred's member reach deep inside of him. Suddenly, a louder moan escaped his lips, ad he tried to muffle it by biting his bottom lip.

“ _Ah_ … there! Feels so good there. " Arthur tried to make Alfred hit that special spot inside of him, and every time he did, Arthur arched his back more in pleasure.

"Arthur, you feel so good ... ah!" Alfred moaned when the Brit went harder, and bucked his hips back onto him feeling the need to sink deeper in that warm soft flesh.

Arthur grabbed Alfred’s hands and squeezed them, holding on them while riding and letting his body give up to extreme pleasure. “Fuck me… _aah!_ ”

Alfred moved his hips to meet Arthur’s as much as he could, the pleasure was getting intense, more than he could actually handle for his first time. “I’m going to… ah, Arthur!” He called, holding on him tightly before reaching his climax and releasing inside his body, twitching for some seconds while riding out his first powerful orgasm. He had been touching himself before, but it didn’t feel as intense, nota t all.

On the other hand, Arthur had kept riding Alfred for few seconds before feeling himself being filled up with warm thick semen, and released as well between his chest and Alfred’s, calling his name,then collapsed down on the other guy as he sighed in pleasure.

Alfred’s hand started to stroke Arthur’s soft hair, silently, enjoying the feeling of still staying inside the other’s body as they were close to each other. But then he pulled himself out and kissed Arthur softly. “I love you, doctor Arthur.” He whispered, brushing back his hair that was slightly wet with sweat, and wishing that moment to never have an end.

Arthur kept laying on him, resting his head on the crook of Alfred’s neck, nuzzling it gently and enjoying the warmth. “I love you too, bloody rebel, and always will.”


End file.
